


Abundance

by Laylah



Series: Multiply [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Come Inflation, Dubious Consent, F/F, Sex Pollen? In Heat? A Thing Like That, Something Made Them Do It, triangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shifts, braces her hands on the counter on either side of you, not touching but penning you in. Her eyes sparkle. "Not going to yell for Fussyfangs to come save you?"</p><p>No. If you understand the quadrant implications correctly, that would be terrible for your relationship with Kanaya. You smile at Vriska sweetly. "Is there something here from which I require saving?"</p><p>Vriska kisses you. She has all the finesse of a cement truck and all the forbearance of a starving wolverine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance. —Troll St. Augustine_

It's another beautiful, tropical afternoon; you would suspect that Jade's island knows nothing but perfect weather, if she hadn't told you about the storms that sweep through a few months out of the year. You're sitting under a beach umbrella so you don't get too much sun, and idly working on a plot outline for a world-hopping, trans-timeline wizard fantasy you'd like to write. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of some of the others playing in the surf: John's voice, raised in excitement; Karkat's exaggerated aggravation; Feferi's squeals of delight. The trolls are still fascinated by the idea that they can go outside when the sun is up, though some of them have taken to it more readily than others.

And now Jade is crossing the sand toward you—barefoot, as though she doesn't even feel the heat. She waves when she sees that you've noticed her, and you lift one hand in the smallest possible wave back.

"I need to talk to you," she says as she plops down underneath the umbrella with you.

You nod. You don't expect small-talk greetings from her anymore. "About your sexual adventures with Karkat yesterday?"

"Augh!" Jade says, loudly enough that you wince. "How do you _do_ that? You don't even have Seer powers anymore!"

"Elementary, my dear Harley," you say dryly. "The circumstantial evidence of the solitary picnic, the flush to Mister Vantas's cheeks when he looks at you since your return, the placement of the smudges of dirt on your clothes, the overlooked leaf in your hair..." You let her sputter for a moment before you add, "And Kanaya could smell his pheromones all over you last night."

Jade makes a face that you suspect is her best attempt at contrition when her natural inclination is to grin instead. "Whoops."

You glance back down at your notebook; you've lost your train of thought entirely, but it makes this sort of conversation easier to have something else you can pretend to occupy yourself with. "So. You needed to talk to me?"

"Right! Soooooo.... It was really super awesome! Like, the whole thing, pretty much from the first second we touched. Everything felt _great_." You nod. You'd noticed that too, when you made it back to Earth. Things with Kanaya had been enjoyable before that, but it's been different since you passed through that final gate.

"But," you prompt.

"But, um, a few hours later.... Well, I got really bad cramps, and then... made a really big mess!" She gestures, as if to indicate just how big the mess was. "And I _think_ it was just, you know... Karkat's stuff? I mean, it stopped hurting after that. But." She glances at you, unusually nervous, and grimaces.

You figure it out. "Of course," you say. "His is bright red, isn't it?"

Jade nods. "Kinda looked like I was dying, actually!"

"You're not," you reassure her. Your cheeks are unreasonably warm. "The natural contrast present in Kanaya's case made it abundantly clear that there was no human blood involved."

"Whew," Jade says. "I mean, it was really awesome, but that would have been a dumb thing to die over!"

"Indeed." Your pen makes little spiral patterns in the margins of your page; you find that discussing sex is much easier in the abstract than in the personal.

Jade is still sitting there, though. "Sucks about the cramps, though. Does that happen every time?"

"After vaginal intercourse, yes." _Clinical terminology_ , says your inner skeptic, who sounds a lot like Dave. _The refuge of the outrageously uncomfortable._ "I'm not sure how it could be avoided, when there's such a substantial quantity of foreign matter being retained."

"I guess," Jade agrees grudgingly. You suspect she's thinking of how strangely, dreamily pleasant the retention period is; it's as though there's a mood-altering substance in the slurry. "If you do other stuff, it's not a problem though, huh?"

You nod, trying to will the awkwardness way. You're the worldly, experienced one Jade is coming to with her questions. You have no use for this discomfort. "Manual stimulation is, of course, messy, but has no complications for either party. Oral sex is also... more pleasant to perform than I was expecting."

"Hmm." When you look up, Jade is watching you entirely too intently. "What about anal?"

"When you find out, let me know," you say.

"Heh." Jade grins. "Will do!"

You don't doubt she will. You hope she'll at least squirm a little when you pay her back for the interrogation and take notes.

* * *

Some nights the cramps are worth it. It feels so _good_ to have her inside you; it leaves your skin tingling and alive, your veins thrumming with energy. Maybe it should bother you that it's so clearly an altered state, after how badly your adventures with alcohol went, but it feels so different. It doesn't make you feel clumsy and confused the way you got when you were drunk.

It does, however, make you _hungry_ , though you think the entirely mundane explanation of intense energy expenditure is likely the culprit there. Kanaya dozes with her arm around you, her face buried in your hair, and you lie quietly and bask in the comfort of her skin for as long as you can before hunger gets the better of you.

When you can't stand it any longer, you slip out of her arms and find yourself a robe that you can wear down to the kitchen. Her material sits heavy in your lower belly, comforting.

The kitchen is deserted; you open the fridge and fall on the dinner leftovers like a ravening horror. You're probably depriving at least three people of breakfast tomorrow and you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about that. It feels almost silly that you can become so absorbed in simple, sensual pleasures like sex and food—but the game left its scars, you suppose. You can't take even the simplest things for granted.

You stretch, your arms raised over your head. Movement reflected in the window makes you realize you're not alone, and you turn. "Vriska."

"Miss Priss," she says, which is far from the worst nickname she's given anyone; you make a point not to react, in the hopes that she'll get bored with it eventually. Vriska is... trouble, but a sort of trouble you've always felt comfortable in your ability to handle.

Tonight, though, your heartbeat speeds up when she slinks closer. "Can I do something for you?" you ask, and immediately wish you hadn't; it sounds like you're propositioning her, even though you currently have a belly full of slurry and you constantly have reason to avoid drawing her interest.

She looks you up and down like she's about to make a proposition of her own. Your nipples stiffen under your robe. "I can smell Fussyfangs all over you," she says.

"Jealous?" you ask as lightly as you can.

Vriska leans closer. "Appreciative," she says. _Appreci8ive_. She breathes you in and you quell a shudder. You don't want her to touch you. You want her to touch you so badly you can taste it. "What's the matter? Humans too boring for you?"

You incline your head slightly. "I would have thought they'd be too boring for _you_."

She smiles. She hasn't backed off an inch. "Come on, everybody thinks you're fascinating. You know that."

"Really? Everybody." You won't give ground, either. She smells of something musky and wild, something enticing. The part of you that wants to touch her is gaining. You're not Kanaya's girlfriend. You're quadranted. She has other relationships she pursues. You don't have remotely similar feelings for Vriska as you do for Kanaya. By troll standards this is something completely unrelated. 

Vriska isn't as clever as she thinks she is, isn't even _pretty_ ; she's not your type at all. But right now she's incredibly compelling.

She shifts, braces her hands on the counter on either side of you, not touching but penning you in. Her eyes sparkle. "Not going to yell for Fussyfangs to come save you?"

No. If you understand the quadrant implications correctly, that would be terrible for your relationship with Kanaya. You smile at Vriska sweetly. "Is there something here from which I require saving?"

Vriska kisses you. She has all the finesse of a cement truck and all the forbearance of a starving wolverine, and your clit throbs with instant, unreasoning need. You struggle not to whimper and instead simply choke, your joints slack, your muscles watery and unresisting. You doubt bodices have ever been so convincingly ripped as when Vriska tugs loose the knot of your robe and pushes it open.

It's everything and nothing like being with Kanaya. She's still _Vriska_ , and you still find her arrogant and obnoxious and aggravating, but that frustration makes your body ache for her, makes you crave her bulge buried as deep in you as it will go and pumping you full. You grab for the waistband of her jeans.

She laughs into your mouth. "You want it," she sneers.

You try to bite her, but she pulls back too quickly. "You sound like a tawdry villain," you snap. 

"Go on, try to tell me I'm wrong." She grabs one of your nipples and twists it, hard, and that time you can't stop yourself from moaning. You want to tell her to stop just to spite her, but the word sticks in your throat and you can't say it.

"Five of ten for intensity," you say as you tear her pants open. "Zero of ten for originality."

"Eight of eight for shitty denial," she retorts. 

You narrow your eyes, run your fingers up the length of her unsheathing bulge, and lick her fluids off them without looking down. It's almost a mistake, when the taste of her slurry makes you dizzy with need, but she whines as she stares at you so you think you're still winning.

When she hikes your legs up around her waist, you tighten your thighs around her. This is moving too fast, and you're acting entirely too much on impulse, and Vriska's bulge slides against the folds of your cunt and you don't— _can't_ —care. You bite your lip so you won't say anything pathetic.

"I ought to make you beg for it," Vriska sneers, but her bulge is already penetrating you, slick and twisting as it follows the same path Kanaya took two hours earlier.

"As if you could w-wait that long to indulge yourself," you say, canting your hips up. She's so close—there, finding the spot that feels like it's unlocking you, the spot that lets her touch you impossibly and melts your last scraps of self-control.

At least she's overwhelmed, too, panting soft and ragged in your ear as the first pulsing release of her slurry fills you. You tangle your fingers in her hair and pull, grounding yourself as best you can. Was the feeling ever this _raw_ with Kanaya? It's almost frightening, this need you can label as alien but can't separate yourself from. 

Vriska bites you, distractedly, her teeth grazing your earlobe and then your neck. She pulls your robe off your shoulders, rips at the seams, lets it fall and pool around your hips. Your skin feels fever-hot and sensitive, and each pulse of Vriska's bulge sends ripples of sensation spreading out from your core. You'd been comfortably full with just Kanaya's material inside you, but now that Vriska is adding to that amount you're starting to feel stretched, swollen. 

"Is this, nnh, an attempt at reaching Kanaya indirectly? Mixing your material with hers through me?"

The thrash of Vriska's bulge at that is almost painful, and you score yourself a point. "Sure," she says breathlessly. Her hands slide down your back, cup your ass, knead possessively. "Takes two trolls' worth of slurry to make you a real pail, after all."

Your clit throbs, and you bite down on her shoulder; you didn't even grow up with the right cultural references for that, but you've absorbed plenty in the last few years. You squirm as the pressure builds, as if you could somehow make room for the fluid that's filling you. You can't; it isn't possible. It feels like you're changing, your body reshaping itself to hold more of Vriska's material. Time distorts, melting and re-forming the same way you are. You forget to keep sniping at her and just hold on, panting, overpowered by raw sensory input.

There's nothing orgasmic about it, no peak you're straining to reach, but the pleasure unstrings your joints the same way. You aren't built to withstand it, and you think you'd be sobbing if you had the breath. It's... fulfillment, bone-deep, as a thing that _happens_ to you rather than a state you momentarily attain. The only choice you can make is the choice to welcome the feeling, so you do.

When Vriska finally releases you, she's uncharacteristically quiet, staring at you wide-eyed as if she's trying to read something in your face and only vaguely knows the language. You reach up with one absurdly unsteady hand and pap her face. She sputters, and you smile.

"You're ridiculous, Lalonde," she says. She kisses you clumsily, an awkwardly tender little gesture, and then absconds, quickly enough that you could be forgiven for characterizing it as fleeing.

You're left sitting on the kitchen counter, your robe in tatters around you, your mind still hazy. You slump sideways to lean against the refrigerator. The stretched heaviness in your abdomen should be unsettling. This should be _uncomfortable_. But all you want to do is curl up around your molten core and bask in a sense of primal satisfaction so complete it leaves no room for distress.

After a few drowsy minutes, you push yourself off the counter. You sway briefly, adjusting to the feeling of alien weight settling between your hips. Bed sounds lovely. You're severely emotionally compromised right now. When that wears off you'll probably be upset. But not now. Now you should go back to bed, curl up to Kanaya, and enjoy this feeling of rightness as long as it lasts.


	2. Coda

You've had enough practice that you can sleep without sopor, even when you're not driven to the miserable extremes of exhaustion that marked the first nights on the meteor. But you will never sleep quite that deeply, never be quite that impervious to disturbance. So the feeling of the mattress dipping reaches your consciousness, but the unmistakable scent of Rose reassures you, and you don't wake in alarm.

She burrows under the blankets, molding her warm body to yours, and her soft skin provokes a tiny shudder of pleasure. You hum, draping an arm around her middle, and breathe her in.

She smells... different.

You wake up a little more, your lips parting as you try to place the sharp tang that overlays her natural earthy musk. It's still familiar, just not like this, just...

"You've been with Vriska."

"Mmn," Rose says, which you recognize as agreement from the period when she was abusing soporifics. "Went to the kitchen for food. She found me there."

Your feelings are doing a thing you have not yet examined closely. "And what happened?"

She shifts in your arms, looks straight at you, though you're never sure how well she sees you in the dark. "Nothing red," she says firmly. "She fucked me. But it was nothing like being with you."

"Thank you for your interest in reassuring me," you say. Your hand moves to the curve of her abdomen, where the usual gentle softness is pulled tight as though she were gravid. "You're full of her material now."

"Along with yours," Rose says, in the same tone she uses to suggest the most perverse things you could do together. She places her hand over yours. "You're mingling there. Inside me."

Your muddled feelings resolve into perfect clarity with the abruptness of an inadvertent unsheathing, which also happens. You'd thought you would need more time to recover, after the way she consumed you earlier, but your reawakened bulge begs to differ.

Rose gasps, her body tensing against yours. Her scent suggests arousal, but her posture certainly does not.

"I apologize," you say, reaching down to corral your wayward bulge before it can attempt to press between her legs. "You're clearly in no shape to take more."

She buries her face in the hollow of your shoulder. "I still want it," she whispers. "I'm so full it aches and I still want to climb into your lap for more."

Pity wracks you, and your bulge twines tighter around your fingers. "Let me take care of you," you say. You tip her onto her back and her hips arch toward you. You _will not_ let yourself take advantage of that willingness and possibly do her harm. Soothing her needs, in your experience, can be done without filling her at all.

You kiss your way down: her throat, her collarbone, her soft mammal rumble spheres with their sensitive tips. You can taste Vriska on her skin, and that makes an irrational pleasure thrum in your blood. You kiss the arch of Rose's rib cage, the tiny divot in her abdomen, the taut-stretched skin below it. Her scent and Vriska's are both stronger here, as you reach the short coarse fur at the juncture of her thighs.

You'll be tasting Vriska's material as you do this. That... would be kinky even if you were quadranted. You don't _want_ to have her in your quadrants anymore; you've learned from your mistakes. But you've only learned so much, because you still find her terribly attractive, and the idea of tasting her makes your mouth water.

Rose squeaks when your tongue touches the tiny nub she has in place of a proper bulge, and one of her hands curls into a fist, bunching up the sheet beneath her. You're dripping on the sheet yourself, squeezing your bulge rhythmically as you lick Vriska's fluids from her tender flesh. Her soft thighs tremble to either side of you. She moans, wordless music at first that turns eventually into words.

"Please," she gasps out, "please, Kanaya," and you pray she's not about to ask you to pail her again. You don't know how you'll resist if she demands it directly. "Let me return the favor."

_That_ you can do gladly. It takes an awkward moment of squirming around on her bed—most of the squirming is on your part, since she's both less certain in the dark and currently slowed by the fullness of her belly. But then you're settled, your head by her hips and hers by yours, and you're finding your way back to her most sensitive flesh.

Rose parts the lips of your nook with her fingers, teasing without yet pressing in. You make a soft noise against her, part encouragement and part plea—and then her tongue flicks the tip of your bulge, and it coils toward the touch. Her mouth welcomes you, wet and hot, sucking up the trickle of your material. She slips her fingers into you to coax out more and you whimper.

You stroke her soft thighs, cup her plush glutes to hold her close, coax her through one climax after another, until you've licked her clean of every trace of Vriska you can reach. She doesn't release your bulge until she's sucked you dry and swallowed all the material you had to give. When you release each other at last, she's trembling with exhaustion. You gather her into your arms, your purr equal parts protective and possessive. Your precious Rose, who smells so sweet and sated, who makes you feel so fierce and proud. 

She falls asleep with her head pillowed on your shoulder, her legs tangled with yours and her swollen belly resting against your hip. You lie awake a little longer, holding your lovely alien matesprit and being grateful for the fact that finally, after all the trials everyone suffered to get to this point, things are going to be all right.


End file.
